Sample
by Cinders and Brimstone
Summary: I'm offering up a couple of Klonnie oneshots that I had collecting dust on my desktop. They're all set somewhere in the middle of season 3. They fit in at random spots. All rated M, all of them AU. If anyone wants to rip an idea, feel free. Each one is a separate attempt. I was going to delete them but I thought, hey, why not post somebody might be able to make the idea work.
1. First one

**AN – this was going to be an AU fic. Very very AU idea created during the episodes when Klaus was remodeling his house and I was playing monopoly. I thought, what if Klaus mortgaged is house and bonnie bought it because she inherited some secret fund? The two of them cohabitating like roomies. Ha Ha.**

The day was starting, all over again, for the umpteenth time. Klaus groaned, stretched and groaned again. Life had taken an odd twist for him. He'd gotten careless and found himself in a situation that was simultaneously miraculous and macabre. What comes from having your hybrid minion do your business for you, he supposed. He'd gone away for a year if so much and came back to find a mortgage out on his house. Somehow – through slinging dope, taking out a heavy life insurance policy on her father, running a Ponzi scheme, he'd never put much thought into it, shockingly – Bonnie managed the funds to buy it out from the bank. He'd had two options then, rent elsewhere or squat, and of course he'd chosen to squat. They'd started at opposite halves of the house, and he'd used his unnatural charm and pizzazz to work his way over to her half and more specifically, her bed.

He scratched himself as he opened his eyes, "What time is it?"

"Late." She didn't even look at him, too busy making up her face, doing some shit or the other to her eyelashes. "Get up. Get out."

He pulled the sheets down to just below his waist and yawned. "I'm not getting out of this bed until I've been fucked. Thoroughly fucked."

That got her angry. She stomped over to him and glowered. "You have plans for today, remember? You have _your hybrid _to meet with. And I have company coming over. Witch-Hunters to kill."

"Fuck that… and fuck me," he grabbed at her but she levelled him with an aneurysm. She was getting good at those. _Too_ good.

He couldn't manage to pretend to care about her Witch-Hunter. The only way to deal with witches was to let them deal with their own problems. He grinned, loving that the very idea of another true hybrid in existence was capable of having any effect at all on her mood. He used some of his dazzling, mind-numbing speed to zoom up behind her and plunge his fingers down the front of panties. She really should know better than to even _attempt_ to get dressed in front of him. And who leaves off in their underwear to do eyelashes anyway, fucking tease.

The aneurysm she floored him with was anything but teasing.

He flumped to the bed again, "Fuck it, Bonnie, I'm hard now." He gestured at his erection with disgust. "Do something."

"Like?"

He shrugged. "Suck it. Fuck it. Whatever you like, I'm not a fussy man."

"It's too early in the morning for sex."

"Never."

"You're an addict, you know that?" She put her foot up on the stool and squeezed her rose oil out onto her palms. Right there, right in front of him, she started rubbing it into her legs.

His cock was putting up a fight. Normally, he'd be able to muscle up some willpower but he was a little irritated. He stared at the pillar rising from his groin and pulled a sheet over himself, spent half a second considering giving _himself_ a hand job and fumed. "It's too early in the morning for masturbation."

"It's too early for me to deal with you."

"I want you."

She shrugged. "Yeah, well…"

"Really badly."

"You really badly want to throw a monkey wrench in my day and throw me off my game. You _live_ to derail everything I do. Get out."

"Not until I've been fucked." He didn't care about anything she did. Not really. She could have a thousand secret witch meetings with ten thousand different witches. Warlocks. Whatever. He was ten centuries too old to care about what some child witch did with her days.

"I'm not fucking you, Klaus."

"It doesn't have to be _you. _As I've said, I'm not a fussy man." He couldn't help the grin. He must look like the most mischievous boy in the world. "There are people who'd die to make love to me, Bonnie. People who _have_ died. I'm in demand, in case you didn't notice."

"I didn't notice. But by all means, go ahead. Go single out one of those _legions_ of women and make _her_ suffer."

His grin widened. "I wouldn't even have to use compulsion."

"Did I say you'd have to?"

His grin began to fade. She _really _was pissing him off. "You're a fucking tease, you know that?"

Unruffled: "For a guy who's pushing centuries, your vocabulary is pretty limited, you know? You're always effing this and effing that…"

"Like I care what you think. Maria!" he called, shouting for the woman he'd picked up the night before. He'd left her somewhere in the house, but she should be in shouting distance. There should be three or four scattered around the house, come to think of it. "Maria!"

"She left."

Oh. "Helena!"

"Selena," she corrected. The nerve of her.

"Selena!"

The girl poked her head through the door, a pretty thing. Hint of Hispanic, well breasted, staring at him like he was her sun and moon. She'd do.

"Come," he beckoned her into the room.

She came, gave Bonnie the once over as she entered, even proffered a bashful _hi._ Bonnie only nodded.

"Come," he waved her over impatiently to the bed, and threw the sheets off himself. "I want you to fuck me like it's my birthday. It's not, but pretend anyway."

Up until that point, he hadn't known what exactly he'd been expecting, but he'd supposed that Bonnie would have intervened at some point. Selena was all for it, though. Bonnie's presence in the room made her hesitate for all of three or four seconds and then she was climbing into the bed, _jumping_ into the bed and landing mouth first onto his cock. His hands shot into her hair, holding her head in place as she worked her tongue around him.

"Ahhh…" he moaned, balls tightening up, "And I'm _not_ compelling her…"

Bonnie was back to her mirror taking a pencil to her eyelids.

She had real talent, Selena, taking his length right up to the back of her throat. His hips jerked up in response. "I wonder what she's like," he mused out loud as Selena added some teeth work, which was nice.

"Who?"

"The hybrid, who else? The other hybrid. My destined mate. And we should have a full moon tonight so that'll make it arousing…"

"Everything arouses you. What's the word for that? Bisexual?"

"Pansexual. Open minded. Liberated. I wonder how liberated _she_ is. Been a while since I've been able to… go wild. Thanks for helping me find her though. To think that if it wasn't for you and all your busy-body scrying I'd not have even known she existed."

"Just make sure you're not related before you fuck her."

"I will. Fear not."

"You know how it is when you get excited. And just to remind you, you have to get your women out of here before Isaac arrives. Or else he'll think I'm running some kind of… whorehouse."

He grunted, holding off his climax. "What kind of man would object to being in a–" He came anyway, panting and sweating, "– in a whorehouse. And this is _my _house, so I can turn it into the fucking Moulin Rouge if I want, but let's not start _that_ argument again." He pulled the girl up, got her jeans off and repositioned her quickly before the cold air had too much of an effect. She was all gangly limbs but he managed to get her on her knees and bent over. He slapped her bare ass and grinned as the sound rang out in the room.

She screamed as he pushed into her. The good kind of scream that was music to any man's ears. All kinds of screams can be musical once you're open-minded, but Selena was making a good show. "So," he set up a slow pace, tangling his fingers in the girl's hair again. She really had nice hair. He'd picked up one for the hair, one for the face and the other, either Janice or Alice, for her legs. Maria was The Face. Selena, The Hair. She could have been The Breasts too, because she had a nice set on her he noticed as her blouse rode up around her neck. "So, what exactly are you and this Isaac going to do while I'm out? Planning on being naughty?"

She pulled a robe on and started on her hair, teasing out the curls.

An awful lot of effort for just some casual spell chanting with a casual acquaintance. He drove in a little deeper–

"Yes!" Selena screamed. She really was a loud one. "Yes! Yes! Fuck me, Klaus! Harder! Harder!"

"Harder and I'll break you, love," he drawled.

"Fuck me! Fuck! Yes! Klaus! Klaus! Klaus!" she started up a chant, punctuated by his thrusts.

He tightened his grip on her hair, yanking it just a little. "And who exactly are you dressing up for? The Witch-Hunter? What the fuck is a Witch-Hunter anyway? I'm one hundred per cent confused about your entire situation. If you need some man-power, _real _man-power–" He gave the girl an extra hard thrust and had her coming around him. "_She's like a vice, fuck…" _She really was. An excellent fuck. "Bonnie, I– _Bonnie…_" _Fuck… _His teeth snapped down on the girl's carotid as he climaxed. Her blood was hot and practically spraying out of her. Tasted decent, for a human. He pulled her up against his chest, scooping her up as he fed. He hadn't _planned_ to drain her, but before he could stop chugging, her hand dropped, limp and pale.

He let her body go, watched it sprawl lifelessly and finish bleed out.

"So," he rounded on his resident houseguest. She had balls. Not literally, but she had them. He'd expected more than her stoic reaction. He'd wanted more. Slowly, he pulled closer to her, licking Selena's blood off his lips. "I'll be back by tonight, or tomorrow, so try to not die while I'm gone. Although I wouldn't mind getting my house back, I assume you have a will made out, witchcraft being such a dangerous hobby as it is." He took her face in her hands and kissed her chastely on the forehead. "Have fun. And wear the green dress." He paused at the door waiting for her compulsory retort.

"Don't walk around my house naked."

"I still have to find Alice."

"Tasha."

With as American an accent as he could muster, "What_ever_."

He came in on her while she was on the toilet.

"Klaus!" she shrieked.

"Not so loud, it's after midnight." It was.

"Get out!"

He took a seat next to her on the bidet. "I keep telling you, more fibre." He'd been waiting on her to drop it since forever, in strict accordance to the laws of decency, or privacy or whatever they were calling it, when he'd lost patience. Ten minutes to drop a load was too much.

"Mind your business!"

"Your ass _is_ my business. Anything going in it – my business. Anything coming out – my business. I–"

"I'm trying to take a shit! My shit is _my _business!"

"You're not doing it right! That's how people get haemorrhoids!"

"Klaus!"

"Or anal fissures! I can help you with it."

"You can't help me take a shit!"

He rubbed her shoulder consolingly. "You wouldn't think so, but I can. It'll amaze you the things I have experience with; a thousand years can be…educational."

The shock began to wear off, and she slumped back on the bowl in resignation. He could only imagine how uncomfortable she was, but shacking up with her was all about pushing limits. Breaking that shell. Give him a hundred years and he'd make a right _monster_ woman out of her. Monster witch, to be more accurate.

"You look like shit." Then she cringed. "Not _faeces_ shit. I mean, you look like you had it rough."

"I did," he yawned, stretching his limbs out like a cat. "Very rough. My co-hybrid turned out to be more wolf than vampire. Very _feral_." He started a count off on his fingers, "She's six hundred years old, beastly strong, insanely fast – managed to rip my spleen out before I could introduce myself – and… what else? Blond, looks a bit like Rebekah–"

"The sex must have been interesting."

"Oh love, it _was,_" and he flashed her his Cheshire grin. "Painful, but interesting. I have yet to learn anything of significance about her origins and where she's been the last six centuries – and I _did_ use the 'where were you all my life' line on her – but she's a bit of a freak, the poor girl. First she was eviscerating me, then she was feeding on me, next thing I know my dick was in her mouth. I thought she'd suck it off me. A real hellcat."

"And it took you till midnight to remember where you lived?"

"I thought you'd be busy with Isaac," he made a song of the name to tease her. And because he could not abide the silence, followed up with, "I know you have a weakness for blue eyes, how they get you wet between the legs… I didn't want to interrupt."

She glared at him, "He helped me set up wards around the house to keep people from getting in."

"Must be some shitty wards. _I_ got in."

"To keep _bad_ people from getting in."

"_I'm _bad."

"Klaus."

"Bonnie." He propped his feet up on the padded stool that she kept for her pedicures taking a sick joy in watching the mud from his boots rub off on the white satin. "How long are you going to stay like this? I've seen women _give birth_ faster than this."

"Make some popcorn, get comfortable."

"That's disgusting."

"_This _is disgusting."

"Constipation is disgusting. I keep telling you, fibre. Roughage. Would it kill you to eat a carrot?"

"Why do you care?" she screamed.

He cared because he wanted to take a shower with her, and he'd had everything planned out in his head. And now he'd have to wait. Wait on her to be in the mood, wait for her to look at him, wait on her to clear a space in her schedule… And anything anal would be out of the question, doubtlessly. "Hell, Bonnie, how hard is it for a man to get fucked around here?"

Her jaw clenched, "What is it with you today?"

"It's a full moon. I'm bursting out of my skin here if you even give a fuck."

She chortled, "Your time of the month, huh?"

He kicked the stool away and scowled. "I don't need this."

"Wait," she grabbed at his pants when he passed. "Grab a shower, you smell like her."

"Good. And her name's Natalia. And you smell like Isaac and every other person in Mystic Falls except me." He wiggled out of her grip. "Unforgivable, Bonnie. Utterly unforgivable."

"Fine," she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes. "If you're _gagging_ for it, I _suppose_ I could accommodate you…"

An eyebrow went up, "I'd be ever so grateful."

"Tomorrow."

He froze. Then frowned. "It's after midnight now, so when you say tomorrow, you mean later today, right?"

She flung him out the door, slammed it back behind him and bolted it shut.

Fucking tease.

**This was just for fun. What happens when you watch Rome too many times. This was inspired by that scene where Atia's getting dressed for Caesar'a funeral and Anthony's like '**_**pre funeral sex'. **_**Disregarding the ending which was rushed and botched, Atia x Anthony was one of **_**the **_**best pairings I ever think it had (followed probably by Ares and Xena). The guy is permanently living in her house, sleeping with her servants in her bed and has the gall to be pissed at her for making him sleep with the servants. The man is an outrageous flirt with everything that moves, but is **_**so**_** confident in his thing with Atia… The guy **_**marries her daughter**_** and the two of them still find a way to work that out.****At no point in time in two whole seasons does he ever say that he loves her, despite how many times she repeats it, but the only thing that actually breaks them up is when he gets banished from the country. Anyhow. I know everybody hates Atia, and she **_**is**_** kinda evil, but it's cute how she settles for Anthony's sordid behaviours because she **_**knows **_**somehow that he loves her. And the thing is, Atia x Antony is actually the main relationship of the series, and they're more like co-conspirators of evil. I have no idea how Delena/ Stelena is supposed to keeps people's interest in a show. Two guys shouting – I love you, I love you more – and Elena's in love with everybody… I need new entertainment. Some new fantastic ship to jump on.**


	2. Second one

**AN – this was just random. Klaus makes and attempt to kill Bonnie then changes his somewhere before the season finally, sometime after bonnie and Esther and Abby try to kill him. Elijah's in it to. It's just weird...  
**

He didn't have a concrete plan in mind, but he wasn't troubled. Only serial killers premeditate the details. Regular people, like him, just go with the flow.

He'd stuck a piece of beer bottle in her car tyre, which had facilitated the flat she got three miles away from her house. The flat in turn was supposed to facilitate his killing her and making it look like a random act of violence at the hands of some random, violent evildoer three miles away from her house.

All of that hinged on him killing her, though. And she was only two streetlights away from home, now. He should call it off for the night. He should maybe even consider _not_ killing her.

"You look anxious, brother," Elijah whispered from behind him.

Klaus didn't deign to reply. He wasn't anxious. He was hesitant. Rumour had it that good was always destined to triumph over evil, but he'd come to learn a key truth to the game. It didn't matter how good or evil he was, only what type of friends he had. And witches were the best kind of friends a guy like him could wish for. Kill Bonnie Bennett and he'd have a shitload of bad karma to deal with. He did not need any more bad karma, killing his mom had him covered.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"Back up."

The very concept of Elijah providing _him_ back up was so preposterous his jaw slackened a bit. "What?"

"In case you get cold feet. Chicken out. I understand that you've failed to kill her on several occasions, so I thought I'd come check up on you. See how you manage… You can do it," and his brother thumped him on the back mockingly.

"Must we kill her?" There ought to be another way. Witches were getting harder and harder to come by. Leave it to the Salvatores and he'd have to start up an import trade. Ain't no two vampires in the world by his esteem who could compare to Damon and Stefan Salvatore when it came to witch killing. Poor, poor Greta. And Gloria. They'd been good ones. Poor Abby.

Well, not really. Abby'd had hers coming as soon as she agreed to help Esther, so that really couldn't have been helped. And she'd been a shitty mother anyway. She _had_ put Mikael in the tomb though, and that should have counted for something.

Give Bonnie a chance though, and she'd make another attempt at his life. The girl was death, plain and simple. Cute, but still death. Death in a tight, white baby tee and a floral print skirt. A get up in honour of Garden Society Day or some equally nonsensical excuse for a holiday. It was cute. The skirt would never function in an actual garden, too long, too white, but the baby tee was nice. Almost sexy. He'd always taken her for an A cup kind of girl, but she'd done well for herself in that department. Funny how he'd only noticed that when he had to kill her, but _life_...

Elijah, unnaturally, was partaking in the casual wear himself, in a cotton shirt and pants that fit him like…

"Are you wearing my–" but he stopped himself. Elijah would never. Kol would, but Elijah? Never. "Should I feed on her?"

His brother shrugged. "What other way is there?"

"Breaking her neck would be faster."

"But less efficient. You're a growing hybrid; you need the nutrition."

Nothing like snarky condescension on a cool Spring night to put him in a mood for murder. Before she could scream, give him an aneurysm, set him on fire, or fling him through the air like a rag doll, he sank his teeth into her neck.

One arm came up to connect with his face, missed and that was the end of the struggle. He'd expected more, but she went limp in his arms by the time he had his second mouthful. The better way to do it was to grab them from behind, use one hand to position the neck, getting one hand under their breasts to hold them up. He'd attacked her from in front though, panicked a bit when he'd made eye contact, and ended up scooping her up by the ass. Somehow, in all of that hoorah, he'd broken one of her ribs as well, which was odd.

If he'd been thinking, he'd have put out the streetlight _before_ he'd attacked her. Anybody just happening to look out their window could see him their feeding on the witch. Except it might not look too suspicious. She was rather small, so maybe they'd just think he was some dad carrying home his sleeping child. Or some dude with his drunk girlfriend making out on a lamppost because they couldn't wait to get indoors.

He moved to readjust his grip on her, and then she shifted on her own, just sort of _rotated_ herself out of his hands and he dropped her.

Her back hit the pavement hard and he winced for her.

Then she kicked him in the kneecap. Which didn't hurt but pissed him off all the same.

"I can do this the hard way, love," he muttered and before she could get to her feet he was pinning her down with his weight and at her throat again.

He got in all of two mouthfuls before she moaned his name.

Soft like. Pleading like. Like a whimper.

It sounded nice.

"_Klaus."_

He inhaled, breathing in the scent of cut lawn, the odour of a nearby dead rat and her sweat.

Then he licked her up her throat as much to save her blood from wastage as to taste said sweat.

Then she tried to knee him in the groin, but the effect was all wrong. She might have been trying to hurt him, but a litre of blood down, she didn't have the strength for causing _pain_.

He was still going to kill her, but while he slowly drained the blood from her body, who could blame him for getting comfortable? He settled himself between her legs, not doing anything too perverted like ripping her underwear off, just raising her skirt a bit…

He suppressed a shudder when one leg went up around his waist, followed by another arousing, "_Klaus_…"

Cursing the streetlamp and the excessive moonlight, he raised himself off her a little.

Her eyes were open, staring right up at him. Glossed up lips, parted and daring him to kiss her. Cute nose. Beautiful eyelashes. A little asymmetry, but the cute kind…

Was she doing some kind of spell? Hypnotizing him? Bewitching him?

Try to bewitch him, would she? He fisted the collar of her tee and ripped it down the middle. Her skin was too warm, and he paused for a moment as his fingers lingered over the swell of her breasts.

Any decent bad guy would kill this girl. She'd tried to kill him multiple times. He _owed_ her, so despite the top notch seduction whammy she was trying on him, he'd still _have_ to bleed her dry.

_Except_…

He ripped the bra off her, exposing her breasts to the chilly air… and any passing onlooker…

Bleeding her dry was bleeding her dry. Normally, he'd hit the carotid and drain it, but spontaneity was good. He could bite her anywhere he damn well pleased. And she had excellent breasts that were _made_ to be bitten. All the panting and heaving and heavy breathing… _made _to be bitten.

Or licked. Since breaking the sun and moon curse, he started getting into licking people. Tasting people's flavours… and creepy as it sounded he wanted to taste Bonnie. Not just her blood, _everything_, explore every nook and cranny.

His mouth latched onto one of her breast and his tongue twirled around the nipple. She moaned. _Undisputedly, _she moaned and her back arched up. He sucked harder on the nipple. Her tantalizingly hard, erotically large nipple. He pinched the other one.

"_Klaus…"_

He'd never get down to killing her if she kept saying his name like that.

A hand fisted in his hair and it was _his_ turn to say _her_ name. "_Bonnie_…" he managed, despite the eerie eye contact. Disconcertingly beautiful, was how he'd put it.

Her other hand was in his head, guiding him back down to her breasts.

Then everything went dark.

When he came to, he was still on the pavement. On his back, staring up at the stars

With a cold sticky discomfort… "Elijah," he called absently, "I… I think I– I jizzed in my pants."

"Yes you did," came the Original's reply. Only his brother's voice sounded… strange.

Klaus propped himself up on his hands and turned to the voice.

And lo and behold, his brother there about three feet from him, holding the witch in his arms. Hand groping her ass…

"What happened?" he asked first off.

"Aneurysm."

"That powerful? To knock me out?"

Elijah nodded.

"And I thought you were supposed to be backup…" Klaus got to his feet. "She's dead?"

Elijah shook his head. One hand tightening its grip on her bare back. She had a nice back. Very lickable. He could imagine waking up a morning with a back like that pressed up against his chest. He'd have an arm around her… and her legs would be…

"Well, be a good boy and give her here."

"Why? You obviously can't kill her, and I see why now. You technique lacks a definitive _killing_ intent."

The hell? "I can kill her any way I like, brother. She's my witch and–"

His brother took a step back, "After you passed out, she ran to _me _for help, because she actually trusts _me, _so I'd say she's more _my_ witch than yours."

The fucking hell? How had this twisted argument started? Klaus shook his head, more sure than anything that he'd suffered brain damage at some point during the night. "Are we still killing her?"

"Yes, we have to."

"So why didn't _you_ kill her?"

"I knocked her out."

Exactly. He made another step to take the witch back and Elijah took another step away. "Brother, don't start getting attached–"

"You ejaculated in your fucking pants, Niklaus!"

_Announce it to the world, why don't you? _As if he wasn't uncomfortable enough_. _"So what's your plan? Hand her over and I'll break her neck right here, right now."

"No."

"So we're doing what then, kidnapping her?" Which was not a bad idea at all. "We'll carry her back to the house–"

"With Kol and Finn?"

Klaus sighed. It didn't take much to get Kol on a drive, and putting Bonnie in front of him would be like… He didn't even want to think about it. And Finn, the sad bastard was just waiting for a forlorn damsel to rescue and give his life meaning. The last thing he wanted for Bonnie to become some Byron-wannabe's _raison d'etre_.

And he'd have to dagger Elijah again. He stretched out his arms for the witch and used his _serious_ face. "Give her here, brother."

"Dibs."

"What?"

"I call dibs."

"The fuck?"

"I'm older than you. I don't give a fuck that you're a hybrid – I'm calling dibs on the witch."

What the fuck? "Me too then, I'm calling dibs."

"You can't call dibs after I already called it; there are rules. And she _hates_ you. I'm not going to–"

"Okay, here's what," Klaus stopped him. "I need to change these pants because I can feel it trickling down my calves and it's disgusting. Then we flip a coin. Winner gets to kill her in whichever prolonged or excessive manner he chooses. Agreed?"

"Not agreed. Do you really want to kill her? She's so… innocent."

Right. He'd felt her hands in his hair, her fingers on his skin… Innocent his ass. Innocent little girls didn't make him come in his pants by saying his name. He sighed, regretting the moment his lips had touched her and at the same time regretting that he hadn't just done away with her underwear and fucked her right there on the sidewalk. That way, he'd have gotten it out of his system. Now he'd have to do it the hard way. In resignation to the night, he pulled out his phone and started dialling the number for a cab. Kidnapping it was then. He'd have to deal with the the Salvatores too… and all the annoying rest of them. Caroline… He exhaled and put the phone to his ear. Innocent. Regular little angel, his ass.

A light flickered on a porch behind them. A man was staring out at the two of them, his eyes wild and bulging out of his head, hand shaking as he gripped the banister. "What are– Bonnie? Bonnie, are you– What the fuck are you doing with my daughter! I'm calling the police!"

Elijah shifted. "You want to handle this?"

Klaus ignored him, hanging up and trying another number. "How 'bout you take a crack at it this time, and _I'll_ be the backup."

**AN. Everything about this was uncomfortable for me to write. Everybody feels OOC.**


	3. Third one

**AN - once again, very AU. I was watching a movie about a beauty pageant, the one with S. bullock, and I thought, hey, try a pageant. Finn's still alive and everything's peaceful in the town.  
**

Bonnie's eyes searched the crowd as she walked to the middle of the stage, spun around in a slow awkward circle, put her right hand on her hip, smiled, then froze.

"Bonnie Bennett," Mayor Lockwood announced, applauding in her dainty, southern belle, fingers to palm way. "Let's start the bidding at fifty dollars, shall we? Do we have any takers?"

She'd refused at first. Parading around on a stage in a bikini and her smile was not exactly her cup of tea. It was Caroline's cup of tea, sure, and Elena might prefer parading around in a eighteenth century frock instead, but it was the furthest thing away from having a good time in Bonnie's mind.

There'd been emancipation.

Feminism.

No teenage girl should have to suffer through an auction.

But then the mayor had gone off on how it was all in the name of charity, and of course only the evillest demon in the world would say no to starving children and cancer patients.

So she'd said yes.

Yes to making a joke out of herself. She'd wear the fucking bikini, smile like a fucking bimbo, and get pimped out to a loser for fifty fucking dollars.

If someone felt like paying for the pleasure of her company, that was. Otherwise, she'd probably be heckled off the stage.

Up until that point, under the spotlight, staring out into the sea of male faces, she hadn't realised how little effort she'd put into being sociable. Since discovering her witch ancestry, having a life had gotten put on the back burner. Not even a fired up back burner, but one all clogged up from overboiled spaghetti or something.

Jeremy would have bid on her. He'd have bid every scent he had, but he'd been compelled to greener pastures.

Matt would have given her a pity bid, but fifty dollars was asking too much of him. The guy had bigger problems to worry about than her self-esteem.

Besides Jeremy and Matt, the only guys in her contact list is Stefan and Damon. Both of them hopelessly in love with Elena. Stefan was a ripper, well half ripper half normal now, and the two of them were almost friends which was strange considering he'd helped kill her mother, but he hadn't bid on any of the girls gone so far which meant he was saving up his cash for Elena, most like.

Damon… Well, Damon was the right kind of jackass to fork out some cash and make a scene out of it. She wouldn't mind. She'd take a bid from Damon and say _thanks _if it meant not having to walk off the stage hanging her head, tail between her legs. He'd bid on half the girls so far, at least fifteen, and she was sure they were total strangers to him. He'd put out a thousand dollars to get Rebekah, winning a bidding war with Klaus which had probably been the most disturbing thing of the night so far, a hundred on Melissa, three fifty on Stacy, two fifty on Kimberly… Most like he was planning some sick kind of vampire feeding fest slash orgy party… which she wouldn't be invited to…

Other than those two, the relatively friendly vampires, the only people she can recognise are the vampires who want her dead. Klaus. Elijah. Finn. Kol. All of them sitting at the back, looking bored except for Klaus who was chatting it up with Caroline's mother.

Actually, thinking about it. Klaus was probably the only one who wanted her dead. Elijah didn't seem the type of guy to be big on vengeance. Finn… Finn was staring at her as if she had horns growing out of her skull. Poor guy, daggered for centuries, probably still getting used to electricity. And Kol, Kol was tapping away at his phone, transfixed.

She kept smiling, suppressed a shudder as a blast of frosty air-con hit her on her near bare back, and tried to pretend that the crickets of awkward silence weren't chirping so loud.

Klaus cleared his throat, raised his hand. "Fifty dollars for the bewitching beauty."

The mayor smiled, evidently relieved. A second again and she'd have had to do something embarrassing and bid on the girl herself. Sure, Bonnie was a quiet girl, not a big hit with the fellas, but put a girl in a skimpy bikini, oil her down and let the word out that she was a cheerleader… that should have loosened up the wallets a bit.

She'd never seen a crowd freeze up like that, not in all her years of pageantry.

She was pretty enough, appealing enough.

How bitchy could the girl be? _Thank God for Klaus, at least. Such a kind man._

Stefan frowned. Fucking Klaus.

"Sixty dollars," he announced.

"Sixty dollars," the mayor repeated. "Seventy, anyone?

"One hundred dollars." Klaus, again.

Stefan groaned. "This guy is such a freak," he muttered under his breath to Damon next to him. "What the hell does he want with Bonnie?"

Damon shrugged. "To kill her, probably. Or fuck her, she does look rather edible in a two piece if I say so myself."

Can life ever be simple? Stefan pulled out his wallet. He'd come just to save face with the council and the mayor, and now he had to deal with Klaus. To diffuse a situation before it exploded in everyone's face. It wasn't as if Bonnie would just _let_ herself be killed without a fight because some stupid Mayor sold her to her arch nemesis to raise money for charity, but Klaus would make a fuss.

If he paid for his twenty four hours with Bonnie, he'd make a big deal out of it, and then hearts would get grabbed at, people would get set on fire, daggers, aneurysms all around, and a lot of mayhem.

Not that he wasn't partial to a little mayhem himself… but not on a Friday night. Not when he'd gone to the trouble of wearing a suit. Not when he had options.

Twenty four hours with Bonnie wouldn't be all that bad. They could go to a club or something for the rest of the night which would allow her to dance and have teenaged fun while he grabbed some body to eat in a bathroom stall. Then they could watch a movie, grab breakfast, and hang out doing whatever shit. Shoot some pool at the Grille… Drive around…

Or they'd just go their own ways, whatever. Not like he cared.

He pulled out two hundred dollar notes from his back pocket. "Two hundred."

"Two fifty."

"Three hundred."

"Three fifty."

"Four hundred."

"Five hundred."

The mayor crooned in glee, "Five hundred dollars for Miss Bennett–"

"I'm out of cash," he whispered to his brother. "As fast as you can you need to hit an ATM and–"

"I'm not running to an ATM."

"Then lend me something!"

"I'm not lending you money!"

"I'll pay you back! Just give it to me."

"I'm not giving you money to blow on the witch, Stefan. We practically own her already, so this is wasting–"

"Damon!"

"My God! This thing with you and the witch is so _cute_. How's Elena going to feel about you bidding on the bestie? Did you think about that?"

"Shut up."

"You always come up with these reasons to swoop down and rescue her. _Bonnie, help me with this. Bonnie, help me with that_–" Damon raised his hand and waved it to get Mrs Lockwood's attention. "Six hundred dollars on the witch."

That earned him a glare. Which he didn't deserve. He was spending his own hard earned cash – his Elena money – to bail her out. The least she could do was be grateful.

Pity he didn't have more money on him, but he'd not catered for having to outbid Klaus for his sister. A guy spending money to go out on a date with his own sister was one of those things Damon couldn't wrap his mind around. Most likely, hopefully, Klaus had done it just to piss him off and annoy Rebekah, but Damon had been permanently disturbed.

Klaus was a disturbing guy, and bitch to the bone though she was, Bonnie didn't deserve having to deal with him. Not on a Friday night when she'd gone to all the trouble of trying to look normal. And hot.

And the air condition was doing a marvellous job on her nipples. It didn't take much to imagine her naked and he let his mind wonder…

"Six fifty," the pervert in the back called.

He raised an eyebrow at her, graced her with a wink, then dragged his tongue over his top lip. Pity he'd left his phone charging, he'd kill for a photo of her posing like some beauty queen uncomfortable as hell getting bid on by the one person who had a score to settle and hoping to be saved by _him, _the bane of her existence."Six fifty-one."

If looks could kill, he'd be _so_ dead.

"Six fifty-two."

_Jackass. _God, he hated Klaus.

Stefan squirmed in his seat. "Asshole."

"Keep your cool, bro. I'll buy your witch for you and the two of you can get back to… whatever the two of you get up to when you keep your secret meetings. It's really none of my business… just admit it."

"Admit what?"

"That you want her."

"Fuck you, Damon."

"It's not hard to do," he persisted. "Just admit it." He'd admitted it to himself a good while ago. The witch was practically his for the taking, and she was in sore need of being taken. How she'd made it to eighteen without doing the deed was still a mystery to him. Anybody with a functioning dick should be going at her. And his dick was functioning.

Only she exuded this aura… This Ice Queen aura that he'd never managed to break through. To get at her, he'd need _A Moment_.

And moments with her were rare.

There'd been that time she'd pretended to be dead and he'd thought of stripping her down and laying her out in the middle of his bed…

Then there was the time right after he'd killed her mother. The only thing better than normal sex was hate sex, he always said…

He was thinking about killing her father… making it look like a mugging… then swooping in to be the comforting presence during the wake where he'd pure alcohol down her throat.

He'd compelled a good bit of people to not bid on her, one guy in particular to laugh… and she'd been supposed to run off the stage in tears… the final straw in bringing her down from the high horse…

Fucking Stefan. Fucking Klaus.

He riffled through his wallet counting… "Seven thousand, eight hundred and ninety two dollars for the girl."

She looked cold.

Finn twitched, uncomfortable in his seat, uncomfortable in his clothes, uncomfortable in his skin, and confused. He'd thought they'd outlawed slavery, but here it was that the lady chief of the village was selling out the young women.

And he had no money.

Klaus had given him a card to use at machine that was supposed to give him money, but he'd not gotten around to trying it out. Which was sad, because now he wanted to buy something.

He leaned forward in his seat to look at the hybrid. "Why are you buying this one?"

Klaus gave him a look he couldn't interpret. "Because I want this one."

"This one is the witch."

"I know."

"The witch who tried to kill you. The Bennett."

"I know who she is Finn. Seven thousand eight hundred and ninety _three_ dollars."

The lady chief clapped, apparently very happy at the price. A pang of desperation moved through him, "Elijah!"

"What?"

"Buy this one for me."

"Hmm? Why the interest?"

_Why the interest? _

Agreeing with his mother to help kill them hadn't done much to repair the mistrust between himself and Klaus but he'd never expected this sort of petty revenge. This was _his_ witch. The one he'd dreamed about. _His_ Bonnie.

"Sold!" the woman declared, "To Klaus. Money well spent!"

Her hand was shaking. Klaus was walking down the aisle towards her… The mayor was turning pages in her receipt book. Stefan was getting out of his seat. Damon too…

"Not sold!"

The other original was stomping after Klaus, reached him and broke his neck.

Everybody screamed.

Stefan grabbed her by the hand, yanked her off the stage…

"Unhand her!" the guy shouted, finger pointing at her. "She's _my_ witch!"

"Who the fuck are you?" Damon snapped, shouting to be heard over the panic.

"I'm Finn, and I _will_ kill you if you don't hand her over to–"

Snap went Damon's neck.

Kol looked up from his game of Angry Birds.

As he'd expected, Klaus had pushed and pushed until he'd gotten his neck broken.

Finn. Always the _quiet_ ones, he supposed. He had a real talent for breaking necks. He'd got Damon. Stefan too… The mayor… Then the girl had knocked him out with an aneurysm.

And the girl was hardly worth it. Much ado over a stuck up, self-righteous brat, if you asked him. "I always thought he'd be into someone who looked like mother," he said to Elijah who'd remained seated throughout the confusion.

"She _acts _like mother, so that might be the attraction."

"Yes," Kol nodded. "And she does have a physical presence… Very doll-like but at the same time… very… _mean_."

Elijah shrugged, and slouched back in his seat. "She's a lovely girl. She just hates vampires."

"Why?"

"We had a sizable role in the death of her mother last week, remember?"

"Right." He looked at his watch wondering how long Klaus had again before he got up. "And remind me why Klaus hasn't killed her already?"

"Guess."

**Was going to try a Finn x Bonnie, or a Bonnie Harem fic. Can't pull it off though. It's hard enough making up Bamon, and there's still **_**some**_** canon to back that up. I can't begin to come up with a character for Kol or Finn though. **


	4. Fourth one

**AN - this is more Klaus centered. no particular setting. It doesn't fit anywhere.**

**Supernova**

He could smell her heading his way. She smelt like magic. Fire. Like an ice pick through the temples. The usual alarm bells went off in his head. She couldn't hurt him, of course, not since he became _the_ hybrid, but old self-preservation instincts were hard to kill.

Klaus nodded absently as he sauntered down a lane in a random store. Okay, not a random store. His fingers trailed over a fancy little number in black lace. Red bows at the straps… It'd go well with garters, four inch heels, a diamond studded collar…

"Can I help you?" the shop girl gurgled. A pretty, modest looking strumpet, not at all the type you'd expect to find taking employ in a lingerie shop. Young, girl-scout looking… a patch of red was blossoming in her fair cheeks and creeping down her neck. Blue eyes flickered up, down, at the wall… at the other girl working the register. _Shy. Cute_. A nice pulse throbbing under her freckly skin and subcutaneous fat…

"Maybe," he let his eyes rake over her, just testing… listening to her heart go erratic.

She bit her bottom lip, made her face go stern and professional. _One thirty-two beats per minute. Not bad. _"What are you looking for? Anything in particular? Special occasion?"

Not really. Nothing special at all about him and his living situation. He was just a run-of-the-mill millennia old hybrid who was partial for cohabiting with witches. Every now and then, he fed them his blood. Every now and then, they'd getting a little rough under the sheets. Every now and then, they'd engage in dark magic and sacrifice somebody, but Cindy – her name tag said Cindy – didn't need all the details. "Belated birthday celebration," he answered. Not entirely a lie, that. The celebration of his life was about eleven centuries belated. "And I'm very particular about the wrapping paper."

He couldmore than smell her now, he could recognise her clip-clop shoes and her lub-da-dub heart.

"What colour are you looking for?"

He didn't really have anything in mind. He was hiding out in a mall killing time, and somehow lingerie store felt better on him than Radioshack. "Green? Forest green?"

"Green?" Cindy pinched up her eyebrows, frowning. "Not really a birthday colour, but let me guess, green eyes?"

Well, did it matter? He'd not noticed, really, but he'd go out on a limb and say _yeah_? Eyes like emeralds? He'd not be looking _too_ deeply into them anytime soon… Always dangerous looking witches in the eye. _They bewitch you…_ "Green eyes," he nodded with a grin, "You got me."

"What size?"

"Hmmm?"

"What size? What's she measure. Petite? Big and beautiful?"

Petite? Petite didn't really float his boat. _Strike one for you, Cindy… _There was nothing worse than the feel of rib under his fingers. Not to say he wanted chubby, but he like them _grippable_. Fleshy enough to sink his teeth into. Slim? Slender? Call him old-fashioned but women were supposed to be soft. Not muscled. Not toned. Not pushing a six pack. "Petite?" he answered, "Thin, but not stick thin. She's one of those types."

"Types?" Cindy flashed him another quick smile as she started pulling pieces off down the rack. "She's one of _those_ types," she repeated, imitating his accent and frown. A rather good imitation, he'd admit… "As opposed to your normal type? What's your name?"

"You can call me Nicholas if you want." It's times like this, chatting up the innocent victim, pretending to be just some human, that make his day worthwhile.

"So Nicholas…" she stretched for another piece, her tee raising just enough to reveal a pink smooth belly and a cute neat bellybutton… "What's your type? Are you fixed on green, cause I might be able to interest you in something blue."

Maybe she wasn't so shy after all. It'd take an awful lot of gumption to flirt with a guy in a lingerie store… "My type is…"

"Let me guess. The Heidi Klum? The Russian tennis star? I can see you front row in a fashion show watching your girlfriend strut down a runway in an overly revealing piece of class couture."

There was some snark in her voice. A little bitterness. Hmmm, somebody lost their boyfriend to the bombshell, maybe? Got out-glittered maybe? He could see that happening to a girl like Cindy, wallflower tattooed across her forehead in fluorescent ink. "My type…" he drawled, "Is the pretty, dirty-blond, wallflower type. Cheerleader, but not _the _cheerleader. You don't have to be smoking hot, pretty blue eyes are enough as long as–"

"She's willing to go a little freaky behind closed doors," she finished for him.

"On special occasions."

"Every day could be a special occasion for someone like you. So," the girl climbed down the step, "What size are we looking at?"

"Again?"

"Cup size." She cupped one of her own breasts. "What are we dealing with?"

"What are you?"

"32 C."

He waited for a moment, just the slightest bit confused. Was it customary for lingerie shop attendants to fondle themselves? Or was it all part of her flirt? She wasn't very good at it, the flirting. Too subtle at some parts, too bold at others. Too jaunty. He let his eyes pour over her again. _But she does have that lovely, little staccato heart. _"Congratulations. Let's go with something like 32 B."

"That's not bad."

"Meh," he shrugged. "I can do better."

"Most chauvinists think like that," she held up two pieces for him, both a dark green, one a plain lace mesh, the other a tangle of straps and well placed flowers…

Chauvinist? How dare she? "Anything edible?"

"Edible?"

"That I could eat off her?"

"Wrong store, Bob."

"Nicholas," he corrected. "I wouldn't know much about all these stores… Today, I'm making an exception, but normally I prefer my women naked. I'm not big on ceremony, love. Sex is the same as a handshake, no need to fancy it up in my book, but sometimes you try to do something old in a new way and bang, fireworks," he shrugged

She twiddled the fancy piece out for him, he nodded, she smirked… "Buying yourself some fireworks for your birthday… No better way to celebrate life than with explosives." And she started wrapping the parcel.

And bloodshed, he wanted to add. Blood made most days bearable. Some slaughter to get _his_ heart pumping again. What he wouldn't give for a good old-fashioned war, to be out on a battlefield with a piece of steel in hand, joining the boys for a good, old pillaging. Long time since he'd plundered a village. He followed the girl to the counter, paid, took the glossy fancy bag from the cashier. A super-muscled security guy gave him a once over and a look.

"Ah Cindy…" he sighed, "Cindy, Cindy, Cindy…" _You socially awkward, unsexy little human girl…_ She really was pretty, though. Nice lips. Lovely yellow hair… "If I told you I was the king of the world and could make you immortal, what would you say?"

The security guy scoffed. The cashier exhaled in her seat blowing out air hard and returned to a crossword puzzle she was halfway through.

Cindy too, made a sound in the back of her throat. "I'd say that you're a bit delusional."

"I'm a vampire werewolf hybrid."

"Yeah."

"Really love, I am." He moved to the door, scanned the length of the mall, searching through faces for one in particular.

"And you're buying this for who? Buffy?"

That would make him who? Spike? _Please_. Spike had nothing on him. Spike, Damon, Edward, Lestat… whoever, they had nothing on him. "I guess you can call her that. She's a slayer all right, hates vampires with a passion."

_5, 4, 3…_

_I see her._

"Bonnie," he slid out of _Oh La_ _Crème_,purposefullymakingher jump, gasp, stumble two steps back. _Bonnie, Bonnie, Bonnie._

Oh, the look on her face. Sheer horror. Sheer panic. Beautiful.

Honestly, she wasn't too bad on the eyes. Fear looked good on her. A beautiful bounding, galloping heart that seemed to say, _'this_ _is_ _life'. _An adorable little mouth, all lip and red lipstick. _Mmmm_… Involuntarily, he felt his nether regions begin to respond. Supernatural. The way any man would respond to any woman but exponentially so much more. It was his death, responding to her life. His strength responding to her magic. His immortality responding to her doom… and his desire to pluck her out of the world. He understood in that moment what had happened to Damon. He understood in that single moment, how this one traipsing girl had the power to destroy even him, if he let her. The girl was… hypnotically… attractive. Not physically, per se… but the multiple aneurysms she was sending through the vessels in his skull felt nice and made him think about giving her multiple orgasms. Fire was crackling in the air around her exquisitely. A wind was blowing through her hair, despite the mall's solid walls of concrete and reinforced steel. _This is supremacy._

High school girls might not be his flavour, but he'd make an exception for raw, unmitigated power.

"What do you want Klaus?" she gritted out, the fear making her jaw clench.

_All your power… Your utter devotion, and then some. _"At the moment love, just the sight of you has left me satiated. Nice to see you out and about."

She glanced around her nervously. "Don't do this here."

Do what? Why did they always expect mayhem? Couldn't he want to just say hi? He couldn't help giving her the once-over again. Okay, he _could _help it, but he liked seeing her uncomfortable. She was wearing the normal teenage-witch uniform – triplicate blouse layers over skinny jeans. He'd kill to see a witch, _any_ witch, in a tank top and hot pants. "How's Elena?"

"Fine."

"The weather's nice out. Can you believe this heat?"

She didn't answer.

Instead a crackle of electricity went up his spine.

No doubt she'd meant that to be painful… Bonnie Bennett. All his pet peeves and turn-ons rolled up in one. _Okay… She's got the juice. _

"Remember how a while ago, you tried to kill me and failed? Remember how I let you live, forgiveness and all that?"

She nodded cautiously. Another wave of aneurysm hitting him between the eyes, stronger than before.

"Well, this is where you repay my kindness. I need to borrow you for a week or two for a spell I want to try out."

"Never!" she hissed.

"It's either by free will or kidnap… Easy way, hard way…"

"Just leave me alone–"

"I really will leave you alone. I don't much have a problem with killing them all, the Long Distance Daddy, Goldy, the shoddy Third Edition… Damon Without a Cause. Even the homeless guy who wipes tables at the pub." He sighed, "But I'll give you a chance to reconsider."

He handed her the package, crinkly paper and all.

"What's this?" she opened it gingerly, took a moment to recognise what it was, then crushed it up and put it under her jacket.

_Prudish much? _

_Kill her or kiss her?_

He really wanted to kill her. In interest of fairness atthe very least. He'd ripped heads off of people who looked at him wrong, so in the interest of fairness, this girl who'd set herself up to be his slayer, this rookie nemesis if not arch nemesis, really deserved to be put down six feet under. Why hadn't he killed her?

Because she was cute?

Semi-beautiful?

Not like green eyes were rare.

Not like prodigy witches were rare.

_Okay_. He'd use her for his spell, then kill her, plus or minus a quick shag up against a restroom wall.

She _would_ look decent in forest green, he realised almost regretfully. "Tell Damon it's on the house. My treat. Now walk away and don't try anything stupid."

She took a step back, another then wheeled, retreating where she'd come from. It'd be something to see her without all the clothes. Find whatever birthmarks there were to be found. Long time since he'd done some _ripping,_ and wasn't she just rippable? God, he loved witches. Everything about them. Like holding a star in the palm of his hand, every single one of them. Once in a century, he'd get lucky and come across a supernova. Bonnie'd be the supernova of the twenty-first century, sure as hell and hail. A nuclear warhead just waiting for him to turn the key, punch in the codes…

In his experience, there were only two ways of dealing with witches. The good way, which involved the exchange of loads and loads of various body fluids and swimming in pools of blood, or the bad way, which was pretty much the same as the good way except the witch in question died gruesomely at the end. As he watched her _flee_ away from him, reach for her phone, hit speed dial no doubt to report his siting to Papa Damon… he decided to leave Bonnie's options open. Good way, bad way… he'd figure something out. She'd be a nice addition to his collection, and there was always that procreation thing he'd been meaning to test out. Why not with Bonnie?

The attraction was 45% bloodlust, 45% regular lust and 10% unadulterated hate. Kill her? _Maybe. _He needed her? _Maybe. _Supernova's weren't all that rare. People like Greta who abandoned her family for him were rare. People like Maddox and his white voodoo were rare. People like Gloria, _God rest her darling soul, _were rare. Mindy, the sexiest librarian turned hybrid ever, was rare. Bitches who set him on fire and spent their waking hours plotting his destruction were a dime a dozen.

"You seriously just threatened her?" Cindy stood in the doorway, hands folded over her chest. "What kind of a creep are you?"

Oh… Witnesses… Were malls always this full with cute expendable women? He plastered on one of his friendlier faces. _This is dinner, _he decided. Long time since he'd opted to _convince_ a girl to get fed on, but Cindy'd be up for it. She had some kinky in her under that pink baby tee. He could see it. "Bonnie and I have an understanding. This is friendly foreplay."

"I'd hate to see your unfriendly foreplay."

The only woman in the world to piss him off enough to qualify for unfriendly foreplay was Katherine Petrova. "My place, a bottle of three hundred year old wine, and the most unforgettable night of your twenty-two year old existence. Friendly enough for you?"

She screwed up her face, glanced back at the frowsy woman at the cash register, the security guy on his stool. "Happy birthday to you, then. I get off at four."

He followed her back into the store. "What's your colour again? Baby blue?"

**AN: This was a chapter from when I was considering a sequel to Polyester Striptease. Didn't want to just delete it though, because it's 25 hundred words **_**somebody**_** might like.**


	5. The weirdest one

**AN. Doesn't make a lick of sense, I know, except it's supposed to be a sort of prologue to a "Rapunzel in the tower" themed story when I was thinking about doing a Klaus/Elijah/Bonnie fic. Can't explain it more than that. I can't even remember what this was supposed to be about. Seriously.  
**

**Very AU. Klaus has bonnie held hostage, she's going along with it waiting for the opportune moment to kill him and Elijah... Elijah wants her to just go for it? I really can't remember where this was supposed to go.  
**

He coughed.

She startled. Her grip on the slim, moss-laden windowsill disintegrated to nothing, her feet kicked instinctively – effectively _worsening_ her situation – and she fell. Plummeted, more accurately, to the thorny rosebush below.

Not too bad, she thought at the end of her three story vertical journey. Thank God for rosebushes and –

"Problem with the stairs?" he asked, as daintily as ever. As gentlemanly as ever… Well perhaps not, because a true gentleman would maybe have helped her out of the bushes to her feet, or at least have had the decency to look away.

Bonnie flipped her hair back, trying with every ounce of bone marrow to project immature childishness.

Elijah hated immaturity.

He hated childishness.

With any luck, he'd crawl back into whatever hole he'd crawled out of and leave her alone. Whatever plan he was hatching, she wanted no part of it. None whatsoever. Unlikely as you'd think it was, Elijah was actually _worse_ than Damon when it came to evil scheming. On one of Damon's plans, the body count would climb a bit but it'll all end happily ever after more or less. With Elijah, she'd end up dead. Or worse. However the gears turned it his mind, it tended to not factor in civilian collateral damage at all.

Not that she'd seen much of that side of him, but she'd gotten some summarised notes, and the picture painted wasn't too pretty. Elijah and his suits and his waistcoats was not a man to trifle with. Not a man to do _anything_ with.

"Heh," she giggled, as bubbly as she could manage. She grabbed a curl of hair and started twirling it ferociously. "I fell out the window." _Christ._

Elijah took a slow moment to gaze up at the slandered window and the billowing cream curtains. "It happens."

"Yeah…"

His stony sharp eyes settled back on her. "I'd been watching you get ready though…" he hefted the duffel bag she'd thrown down. "And it looked like you were trying to escape and I thought I'd… step out of the shadows… and say hi."

"Hi," Bonnie made a quick but playful grab at her bag.

"Hi," the original vampire replied, lifting the bag out of her reach just as playfully.

She let some of the smile drift from her face. "Elijah…" and it was Bonnie's turn to study the window. Three stories up she'd felt was enough privacy. She'd packed her escape bag. She'd had a shower. Changed right there in the open... "What were you even doing out here? You watched me get dressed?"

"As I've said."

"Really?"

"Really."

"And you're supposed to be the good one."

He shrugged. "Not every day a man encounters a sinfully beautiful, scandalously powerful witch shimmying out a third floor window. I thought I'd come over, catch you if you fell..."

She had fallen, and it had been his fault, and he'd not caught her. "Want something, Elijah? Because Klaus and his… _gang _want you dead. And they will kill you if they know you're here."

He waved her words away as if she'd been trying to warn him about a wrinkle in his polyester shirt, or lint on his grey wool coat. "Been dead. Not too bad. Exciting really, someday I'll wake up to flying cars and aliens."

Nice. Another philosophising vampire. Damon was already waxing insane. Stefan had never quite returned to _normal_. Klaus was just a certificate short of being strapped down in an asylum… Normally, she'd not mind having a conversation with Elijah, the so-called stable one – the straight-laced blood sucker – the non-maniacal one who wouldn't rip her throat out unless she _supremely_ pissed him off… The nice thing about him, he wouldn't kill you _randomly_. He'd play judge and executioner with your life, and _decide_ to kill you if he thought you deserved it, which was almost worse than random homicide in a way…

She should really hear him out.

Technically they were on the same side, the side against _greater_ evil working together for the _greater _good.

But she had plans too. Plans of escape, specifically. _And you're ruining them. _She'd already done gone and robbed them. Emptied out at least a pound of diamonds from the vault… It had been hard enough to get them out without being caught; how stupid would it be to get caught putting them back.

"Elijah…"

"Bonnie…"

Huh. She was not completely repulsed by him saying her name like that, drawling and stretching it out like if it was some magical word. Where Klaus was all dash and vibrant life, Elijah was not. Where Damon was chaos and smooth swagger, Elijah was not. Elijah was… Her eyes finally gave him the sweep, and she wondered if a day would come where she'd ever see him _less _clothed.

"How's the Kool-Aid?" he asked.

"What?"

"The Klausberry Kool-Aid? You witches are suckers for the flavour, I hear. Once you start sipping from the tall drink that he is, you lose all sense of self identity, self-resect, self-pride… Drink the Kool-Aid and gobble up the bullshit, isn't that how you do it?"

She let just the slightest hint of an aneurysm loose on him and he gave just the slightest hint of feeling it. "Elijah, more than anyone else, you're supposed to know where I stand–" she took a quick step to close the distance, "–where I stand on _this._" And she nodded her head back to the house. "I'll kill him the second I get a chance, but he's strong as fuck–"

"He's not the only one."

"I can't _reach_ him."

"You can. You've come close plenty times before. Nearly killed _me_ on one occasion. So grow some balls, not literally, and kill my brother for Pete's sake."

Bonnie flinched at the vampire's nonchalance. When had they become co-conspirators?

"The only thing you're lacking is the proper motivation, though I had supposed being held against your will by the hybrid would have chaffed you raw by now." He frowned, disappointedly. "I thought at least you had guts. That you weren't afraid of going toe to toe with the big bad. Now you're telling me you're content to rob him, and hightail it to Mexico?"

"I'm afraid! Unlike you, I'm not immortal!"

His hand snapped down over her mouth. "No need to shout," he whispered into her ears. "Calm down. Now, what does Klaus want you to do?"

Should she tell him? The enemy of her enemy was supposed to be her friend but what were the rules for when the enemy of the enemy was the enemy's brother? _And I've had this dilemma before… _"What doesn't he want? There are three things he wants me to oversee. First, he wants a coven. A real coven like they had in the old days, hundreds and hundreds of witches gathered together in his name."

"Are there even a hundred witches in America?"

_And we are standing much too close together. _She could smell the musky cologne he'd obviously put on. Why? He wasn't one for vanity. Unless he'd intended all along to get within sniffing distance.

It was very easy to see suddenly the source of all his… _power_. Confidence. "_I am powerful." _He said it with his eyes, with his posture, with his scent.

_Christ. _The last time she'd started gazing up into vampire eyes she'd ended up kidnapped. Possibly suffering from Stockholm Syndrome. High on the Klaus Kool-Aid.

And she wasn't ready for another narcotic.

Not another… Bonnie shook her head. "After the coven's gathered. He's going to turn all the werewolves into hybrids. Every single werewolf on the continent."

"They'll go for that?"

"How much of a fuss did Tyler put up? My own cousin signed up for it – the witches will bite. The werewolves will bite. And he's not even compelling them, everything's voluntary with him."

"They're weak."

"Not everybody has the power of a hundred dead ancestors to channel," she countered. She remembered being weak and scared and helpless despite her glorious candle-lighting ability. Back then when Damon had been snarling at her throat she'd have jumped at the chance to join Klaus' army. Back then Elijah wouldn't have looked at her twice. He'd looked at Elena twice. More than twice, actually.

_Not this shit again, Bonnie. _

_Time to cut loose, remember?_

_Leave Mystic Falls. Head on a plane to Sydney and get a taxi to drop you to a spot so dead in the middle of the outback not even the cellphones worked. _

No Damon. No Elena. No Klaus… No emails. No texts. No searching Bing for random nonsense about un-siring werewolves.

And that was another thing about Klaus that she could appreciate. He didn't mind weakness. Crazy murderer was just one of his many layers. He could nurture too. Strengthen… The very definition of a benefactor.

Hell, he'd bought her a house and while he'd made some suggestive implications, he hadn't really made a move towards her. He kept her at arms' length going to pains to respect her personal space. _Unlike another Original…_ A touch demanding, maybe, but not bullying.

She considered Elijah's grip on her wrist, the light but semi-painful pressure.

_Bully. _

"Hybrid army, Coven, go on," he prodded.

She twisted a finger to get it in contact with _his_ wrist and sent him a lick of fire.

He snapped his hand away and for a split second Bonnie thought he was going to cry out, but he didn't. Composed as ever, he folded his arms over his chest, and frowned. That was all she'd earned, a disappointed frown. Not even a finger wagging. "Go on, _please_?"

"Give me my bag back."

"Give me the rest of the story and we'll trade. You were saying something about an army of hybrids."

"Then we're going to make it so that they don't die even if the get their hearts ripped out."

"True immortality."

"Exactly. Unkillable."

"And how long will this take?"

"We need three hundred and twenty six witches for the spell."

"Stall."

"I don't take orders from you, vampire."

"And I won't be talked down to by you, witch. Don't let Damon give you the wrong idea of what a vampire is. I'm not the kind of person you want to toy with. When I give you my hand in friendship, the best thing to do is take it. I'm not Klaus either – I'm not desperate for friends and well-wishers – so this offer is a one time deal. I'm the quintessential loner. I've survived my brother for centuries and I'll be just fine without your help. I don't _need _you, I'm–"

"You're just giving me the chance to help you?" She shot another aneurysm his way.

Long time since she'd given herself a nosebleed, but she didn't pull back.

Really, Elijah needed a bringing down to earth, just a little bit. He'd been next to useless last time things had gotten hot, leaving them to fend for themselves. She'd never trust him again. Ever/ Quintessential loner? Quintessential double-crosser more like. Every deal with Elijah was a coin flip, heads he'll keep to his word, tails, _he'll abandon me in the lion's den_.

Trust Elijah?

To what end? There was nothing he could do for her now. In fact, she should take a page out of his book and betray _him. _Knock him out and serve him up to Klaus on a tray. Earn herself a pat on the head, some dimples and an endearment. _Well done, love…_

Ack.

Her head cracked into the wall. She hadn't even seen him move. Hadn't even felt his hand go around her throat, but he _had_ moved and his hand _was_ around her throat, threatening to snap all her little bones to splinters. All with vampire blood in her system, no less. He body tensed and she froze. Flat out froze in sheer terror.

"I really wish it hadn't come to this, Bonnie," he spoke into her ear as he pressed her into the wall.

"I don't know. You _did _watch me shower and get dressed."

He chuckled. "I did, didn't I?"

And they stood like that for one charged, awkward, impossibly long moment. One of his hand pinning both of hers above her head, his other at her throat. And the two of them _so_ _freaking_ _close_…

_And he does smell nice. _

New haircut… Nice. And his thigh was right there between hers, if only he would press in just an inch more…

His head dipped, she panicked. Cue aneurysm number three.

"What do you want, Elijah?" _And_ _why the fuck am I the one who's panting?_

"I want you to stay close to Klaus, win his trust and kill him."

_Wrong answer_. _So_ _he's not a better dressed version of Damon then. That reserve is actually real. And look at me gagging for it. Shame on you, Bonnie Bennett. You vampire lover. _"Gladly. How?"

"I'm working on it."

"Give me the pitch."

"Redo the sun and moon curse. Turn him back into either a werewolf or a vampire. Rip his heart out."

_Duh. Redo the sun and moon curse. Simple. Obvious. Vague in details. _"And I get the short straw again, right? I have to do the spell?"

"I'll do the heart-ripping."

"You vampires are good at that."

"I practise every chance I get."

_Can you rip mine out right now before I start crushing on you? Please. "Bonnie Bennett, murdered by an evil vampire." _That'd read better on her tombstone than _"Bonnie Bennett, fell for an evil vampire. Twice." _There was something to be said about standing in the moonlight in a garden pressed up against a wall with Elijah. There were worse things in the world. "Out of the frying pan, into the fire."

He quirked an eyebrow. "I thought you witches _liked_ fire."

"Only when we're not the ones burning."

"Oh, but you're ravishing when you're on fire." He wiped at the trace of blood in the corner of his eye courtesy her aneurysm, inspected the red drop on his finger, then put the finger to his mouth. "All of this anger, it's… hot."

She pressed up to him, he pulled back.

Then he angled in… she pulled back…

"And…" he took a step back, "let's call it a night, shall we. Resume this clandestine meeting when…" he chuckled, letting his eyes give _her _the sweep. "That bite," and he pointed to her breast. "Whose teeth? Klaus'?"

"Yes, brother." Klaus answered from the window. "My witch, my teeth. You want something?"

Elijah looked up with a grin. "You, dead."

"Always the same drama with you, isn't it… I'm going to dagger you if you don't get off my property, brother."

"Such hospitality…" he took another step back, into the shadows and darkness of the night. "Enjoy the rest of your night, Miss Bennett…" and he was gone… disappeared…

Someday, she'd kiss him, she decided right then and there. Someday before she died, she'd kiss him, and get him to take off his jacket, touch his face maybe–

"Ahem," Klaus cleared his throat.

She craned her neck up at him. "We were just talking."

"Of course you were. This is my fault. I _knew_ I shouldn't put you in a room with windows but idiot me…"

"Cellars?"

"You've earned it, love. Until I can arrange to build a tower."


End file.
